


No Antidote

by sleepingseeker



Series: Lost in the Gloaming [1]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Complete, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen, Grief, Loss, Love, One Shot, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1401037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingseeker/pseuds/sleepingseeker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Life was cruel. Love was a slow acting poison without antidote.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Antidote

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to Lost in the Gloaming - possibly my most controversial fic to date.

* * *

_"Every poison is not bitter, but definitely all kill."_  -M.F. Moonzajer

* * *

 

 

"He would have loved this."

Amber eyes, worn and tired, turned to him, filled with unimaginable pain. If he nodded in response, it was too small a movement to see. Donatello waited for more, but knew Raphael was too choked on the tide of emotion carrying his ability to speak out beyond the breakers. Donatello watched him carefully. The sofa's wooden support creaked as he got up brusquely, old bones creaking along with the couch, and walked out of the room. A heavy sigh made its slow crawl from between slightly parted lips.

"Did you see me, Uncle Don?"

He snapped his attention back to the girl in front of him. Her eyes were his brother's and though it hurt him every single time to look directly into that reminder of his absence, he pressed past the cowardice. The last few years had taught him a strength he wished he never had to master.

She twirled the wooden sword up and around, switching between her three fingered hands and repeated the kata once more in case he didn't see. Her movements held a grace that belied the fact that she was only four. The plating on her shoulder blades shifted with her arms, her bare feet ghosted across the living room floor without a sound.

So much of their mutant genetics had dominated the human. As if aggressively asserting its dominant role in the new bend of evolution's baffling twists and turns. Yet, he could see her there, too. But it was a subtle thing. Karai's spirit remained in the movements, in the turn of a head during a witty response, too old and nearly too sharp to come from the mouth of such a young child. She was quick and charming and cunning. Like her mother.

Donatello clapped as she finished. In the kitchen, he heard Mikey chatting happily with April as they fixed the snacks. Don moved from the sofa to their father who was soundly sleeping through the entire production. He placed a worn hand on the frail shoulder and ancient eyes, watering and glassy, opened to peer at him.

"Leonardo?"

Donatello smiled gently. He shook his head.

"Donatello, then." Splinter smiled up at him as a child looking for praise for getting an answer correct. Donatello nodded. Then he helped his aging father up from the pile of cushions that he reclined on in the corner.

"You missed it all, Papa Splinter," KoKoa said with a disappointed pout.

Donatello reached out and stroked the top of her bare head down to her smooth cheek. "He saw, KoKo."

"How? His eyes were closed."

"He's a master, remember. Nothing escapes him."

She looked at him suspiciously, but knew her Uncle Don never lied. He was the smartest person in the world. And never, ever lied. She spun around and chopped at the air, dispatching further invisible enemies with a loud 'kee-yah!' Don assisted Splinter towards his room, the day had been exhausting for him, no doubt. Simple things were becoming more and more tiring for the old rat. But as they approached the door to his room, he paused, watching the small girl. A tremor went through him and Don tensed.

"Are you okay, Master Splinter?" he asked quietly in his father's ear.

"She is so much like him."

Don's face softened. His father's moments of clarity were a rare thing recently, but he clung to them when they emerged. "Yes, she really is. He would be so proud of her."

"Have you heard from Karai? Does she know when Leo is coming home?" he asked hopefully.

Donatello froze. His father's increasing senility was getting worse. It had been two years since the Shredder found Leo and Karai's secret home. Two years since Leo had come home, half-starved, barely able to stand on his feet, the child in his arms, weak with mal-nourishment. After securing his child in the care of his family, he had relayed how he and Karai had spent the last six years traveling through Japan in secret, hiding from humans, the Foot . . . from her father.

His injuries had been severe and neglected to a point of infection setting in, but Donatello still believed that if Karai had survived the attack, his brother would have fought harder to recover. And eventually, would have. Instead, he let go. Choosing to venture into the unknown in search of his heart's deepest love rather than to remain here in a world without her, left to raise their child alone. Perhaps he felt KoKoa would be better off with three father-figures instead of one broken true father.

Donatello opened his mouth, but had no idea what to say in response. Luckily for him, April came into the room then with Mikey. His younger brother scooped a squealing KoKoa up into his arms and spun her around.

"KoKo! Where's my marshmallows? I need marshmallows to go with my KoKo!" he threw her into the air and her laughter was like music.

April's gaze fell on him with a knowing look. She quickly insinuated herself between Don and Splinter and helped him into the room. Murmuring soft wordless, comforting noises to him as she did. Donatello rested his shell against the wall, feeling as if a heavy load had just been taken from his shoulders. She'd been so good with Splinter this entire time. Don was lucky to have her in his life. He fingered the gold ring hanging from the chain around his neck. More than lucky.

He stood up, knowing that despite the chance to relax, he had to see if Raphael was okay. Out of all of them, he'd taken his brother's death the hardest. He found him sitting on the balcony, leaning heavily scarred arms over the metal railing, peering out over the hazy twilight of the city beyond. Several bottles lined the cement floor next to Raphael's chair. A half empty one was lightly held between his fingers. Donatello eyed the bottles warily and then sat on the lawn chair next to him.

"Checkin' up on me?"

Don kept his gaze out over the rooftops. He shrugged, knowin Raph could see it out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm fine."

"I know."

"Go inside and be with your family, then."

"Raph," the word was a heavy sigh.

He drained the rest of his bottle and opened his fingers, letting it drop straight down. Distantly, they heard it shatter on the cement sidewalk below. He turned to Don, eyes dull and glazed. No fire there for a long time.

"Leave it, bro. There's nothin' to say."

"I just think that maybe if you'd talk about-"

Raphael huffed. "You think talkin' about Leo leaving us for Karai, disappearin' for years without us knowin' if he's okay, if he's hurt-"

"He wrote to us all the time," Don interrupted, defending Leonardo.

"He left us."

"We were in our thirties, Raph."

Raphael pinched his mouth shut. Donatello knew he should just let Raph get it off his chest, but couldn't deal with the skewed view his brother had on the situation.

"It ain't gonna change nothin'." He was quiet for a bit. Then when Donatello thought the conversation was done, he added quietly, "Didn't try an' fight. Just gave up. For her."

He rested his head on his forearms and said nothing more. Donatello sat there, unable to reach his brother, so lost in his own grief, much as his father was lost in a jumble of half remembered reality and dreams. He didn't know what to say. That much was true. In the end, Leonardo's love for Karai really did end him.

From inside, the tinkling sound of laughter broke out over the distant sounds of traffic. KoKoa: Love of the Heart. The impossible child. The remaining living memory of their brother alive and kicking just a few feet away gave Donatello the strength to move forward. Mikey had no trouble, it seemed. He found comfort in how much KoKoa was like Leonardo. Donatello was trying. Raphael couldn't bear to look at her for more than a few minutes at a time and one day, he knew she would wonder why her Uncle Raph hated her. Donatello sighed. Some things never seemed to change. He rubbed his face hard. He'd cross that bridge when he got there.

He considered Leonardo giving up. Raphael wasn't wrong. Leonardo had no will to live without Karai. Don wanted to, but couldn't tell Raph just then that he would do the same for April. If something took her life, he would not want to live in a world where she didn't exist. He would not harm himself, but . . . he wouldn't fight to live, either. He rose up on weak legs and clapped Raph on one shoulder, rubbed it and left him to his pain. Raph was right. There was nothing to say, after all.

Life was cruel. Love was a slow acting poison without antidote.


End file.
